[Intro – Spoken / Ambient Background]
3 a.m. again.
Coffee’s cold. Lights hum louder than the people.
I swear this place don’t need ghosts—it builds its own.
[Verse 1 – Melodic Rap, low and weary]
Microwave glow on my tired face,
Plastic cup cracked, same damn taste.
Solo seat, echoes and lies,
Whole crew laughs while somethin’ inside me dies.
Scroll my phone, see smiles, my babies’ dreams,
While I rot here in this neon seam.
Every shift’s a trade, my peace for pay,
Every laugh in that hall sounds miles away.
[Hook – Soft Melodic Chorus]
I’m sittin’ with breakroom ghosts,
Too tired to care, too numb to boast.
Drinkin’ this pain like it’s part of the toast,
One more fuckin’ hour, that’s what hurts the most.
[Verse 2 – Melodic Rap / Subdued Emotion]
Vending machine hums like a lullaby curse,
My head nods off, but my soul feels worse.
Her shadow’s long—I feel it crawl,
Even when she ain’t here, she haunts it all.
Coworkers pretend, call it “just work life,”
While I bleed inside just to keep it polite.
Can’t vent, can’t crack—not while they’re near,
I’m a silent bomb built outta fear.
[Bridge – Half‑Spoken, quiet reflection]
You ever get so tired you forget your name?
I do.
Nights blur together ‘til even anger feels tame.
But somewhere under this numb, somethin’s still breathin’—
Waitin’… for its turn.
[Hook – Reprise / Layered Vocals]
I’m sittin’ with breakroom ghosts,
Too tired to stand, too burnt to boast.
Coffee gone cold, hope long froze,
One day I’ll leave before I decompose.
[Outro – Spoken / Soft Echo]
Quiet room, dead clock.
I whisper to myself:
“Keep goin’. Not yet.
You ain’t finished.”
BlackHawk
